Focus and Direction
by Dreamlover1102
Summary: Garrus asks Shepard for a story. One he's never heard before. "Have I ever told you about how I met Anderson?" Set sometime during ME3, Garrus/Shepard romance.


**A/N: Wanted to write some type of backstory for my Shepard. This is what came out. This is dedicated to Admiral David Anderson who was both a mentor and a father to my Lyra Shepard. So...Lyra Shepard/Soldier/Earthborn/War Hero. Paragon.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Mass Effect. If I did, Shepard would have lived to enjoy the peace she damn well deserved with her faithful Turian...(Sorry...just a tiny bit still bitter about the ending)**

**...**

The galaxy was at war. Everything had gone to hell, and the Reapers had been more victorious than her thus far, but at the moment, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered but these rare but wonderful few hours with Garrus.

Snuggled up next to her Turian while he ran talons gently through her bright red hair, she let out a deep, bone-tired sigh, and slipped an arm around his thin waist. She felt the low rumble as he breathed with her face smooshed up against his chest, and she relaxed against his heat.

"So, we've finished...other activities...for now. What else would you like to do?" Shepard mumbled, trying hard not to fall asleep. She wanted to enjoy her private time with him without being interrupted by anyone, be it in person, or in her nightmares.

"When's the last time you slept, Shepard? And don't bother lying." Garrus warned, his hand stroking down her side.

"Seventeen hours ago. I've stayed up longer than that before. Way longer. I don't want to sleep, Garrus. I want to talk." She replied. She wasn't lying. She _had_ slept seventeen hours ago. What she didn't tell him, though she was sure he'd guess anyway, was the she'd only slept for forty-five minutes.

"Hm...alright, Shepard. Tell me a story. One I haven't heard before." He suggested.

Shepard thought quietly, searching her memories for a good story. One he hadn't heard before, and would not bore him to tears. When one popped up, she grinned. It wasn't exciting, or very adventurous. In fact it was down right _tame _compared to the rest of her life but it was something she cherished. Something that was so much apart of herself that this particular memory is one of the things she thought about the most when she was feeling especially down on her luck.

"Have I ever told you the story about the first time I met Anderson?"

"No, I don't believe you have," She felt him chuckle a bit, and she shifted around until she could see his face, "This ought to be good." He settled more comfortably, and then looked down at her. She took that as a cue, and began to tell one of her most greatest of memories:

**...**

_Her mother had died when she was three. Her father when she was ten. Before they left her, they'd taught her a few things. How to talk her way out of unpleasant situation, how to shoot a pistol when she couldn't talk her way out, how to scrap when she didn't have a gun, and how to pick pocket enough to get by. It wasn't much, but it'd gotten her this far. _

_At age eleven she found herself in a gang, and by sixteen, she was practically on top, below only Finch. She was smart, calculating, the best shot in the group, and she could pick-pocket just about anyone. She'd killed, stolen, sold, and screwed her way to the top, and though she wasn't proud of it, she did it because she felt she had to. There were people who relied on her. Kids younger than herself who were also orphaned, and needed someone there to look after them. She'd taken that apon herself._

_She wasn't happy. Far from it, but it was her life, and she'd made it this far. Perhaps when she was a bit older, she could become a mercenary? She didn't know._

_What she did know was she had a target. _

_Sixteen year old Lyra Shepard stared down the man she'd picked out the crowd. Wealthy, which she knew because of the resturant he'd just stepped out of, but not loaded. No body guards, so either he wasn't anyone particularly special, or he didn't need guards. Shepard was betting on the latter._

_Dark-skinned, and broad shouldered. He wasn't wearing a uniform but everything about him screamed military. A slightly weathered face, wrinkles and worry-lines, and deep wordly brown eyes told her he wasn't __**just**__ military, but well-trained, highly skilled, and probably important. A Commander? Captain? She didn't know but it didn't matter. Shepard could pick pocket anyone, and she was just a little bit cocky about it. _

_She began her casual stroll down the block, headed for him but taking her time. She had a datapad in her hand, her eyes trained down on the text but following the man walking in her direction. The idea was simple. Bumped into him, using the datapad as an excuse for not seeing where she was going, and keep on walking. She doubted he had much credit chits on him but she'd bet it was more than enough to feed the group for a few weeks. Maybe even get Elise a new pair of shoes? _

_He was about three feet away, and Shepard shifted her feet a bit so that'd they inevitably stumble into each other. Her shoulder bumped up against his, and she dropped her hand into his pocket, hand quickly closing around the credit chit, while her eyes widened in innocent disbelief, and her other arm flailed a little as if to catch her balance._

_ "Oh, I'm sorr-" That was about as far as she got before she felt a grip on her arm. Looking down she saw his hand clutched around her arm in his pocket, and she looked up to meet his gaze. Her thoughts raced, calculating the odds of taking him in hand-to-hand while she cursed inwardly about not bringing her pistol with. _

_ "Follow me." He ground out, and she tried to yank her arm back, picking her foot up to stomp on his. He was faster, stronger, and by the time she got her foot up, he'd already swung her around, both arms pinned behind her back, and was pushing her toward the alley way on the right._

_She tripped forward, and crashed into the wall, and she was just starting to panic a little, when she felt him let go, and step back from her. She spun around, arms up, and ready to take a swing. He dodged easily, and swiped a foot out, taking her feet out from under her. She toppled to the ground, and smacked her head __**very painfully **__against concrete. Her breath wooshed out, and her vision swam. She felt bile in the back of her throat, and something wet trickle down her neck._

_She rolled away before he could get another blow in, and climbed to her feet ignoring the agony, and shaking away her blurred vision._

_ "Look, I'm sorry I tried to steal from you, but I don't really want to fight you." She ground out, arms raised in case he came at her. _

_He didn't. Instead, he stared back at her, arms crossed, and smiling?_

_ "What's your name?" He asked, head cocked to the side, and she swore his eyes spoke of amusement._

_ "Excuse me? Do you __**really **__think I'd tell you that?" She asked, incrediously. _

_ "Of course not. You don't need to anyway, I'm sure I could find out. How old are you, Kid? 16? 17? You've got skill, I can see that from your stance. The look in your eyes says you've seen things you wished you hadn't, and done things even worse." He was walking closer, and she stepped back a bit, trying and failing for a blank face, as he continued, "What you don't have is discipline, and focus. You ooze confidence, but lack direction. What's a kid like you doing on the streets?"_

_He stopped short at five feet, and Shepard stopped walking backwards. Her teeth gritted together in annoyance._

_ "None of your damn business." She spat, feeling anger burn through her. She didn't care what he thought. He didn't know her. He didn't know a damn thing about her, or her skill, or shortcomings._

_ "No. I suppose it's not. Listen, kid, you've got the strength, and the determination. I can see that clear as day, without even knowing your name. If you ever find yourself ready to find focus, and direction, you should join the Alliance. We could use someone like you." With that said, he tossed the credit chit she'd tried to steal, to her, which she barely caught in her complete and utter shock, and turned to leave. _

_Shepard shook herself out of her bewilderment, and clutched the credit chit in her hand._

_ "You aren't...gonna have me arrested?" She asked, confusion scrunching her brows together._

_ "No. Don't need to. I'll see you around, kid." He answered back, not turning around, and disappeared around the corner of the alley-way. _

_Shepard let out breath she hadn't known she'd been holding, and looked down at the credit chit in her hand. She wanted to throw it against the wall, but she didn't. Elise needed new shoes, Robbie needed a warmer jacket, and they were all just a bit hungry. _

_With those thoughts in mind, Shepard stashed the chit in her pocket, and strolled out of the alley way, picking up her abandoned datapad she'd lost sometime in the scuffle. She glanced around but she didn't see him. Heading for the shoe store down the street, she made a decision to not to tell Finch about it. He'd just use the money for better weapons, and mods they didn't need._

_After paying for the shoes, she'd learned the man's name. _

_Captain David Anderson. _

_Two years later on the day of her eighteenth birthday, Shepard walked into the recruitment office, with the name branded in the back of her mind. After she climbed her way higher in the N7 program, and faced off waves of Batarians in the Skyllian Blitz, Shepard got called into a meeting. _

_There standing in the room was Captain David Anderson. His hands behind his back, and stance in parade rest, Lyra Shepard saluted him. The salute was more than just rank acknowledgement, or even the promotion to Commander and XO of the Normandy. It was out of great respect, and a gratitude she'd never get the chance to express. He'd saved her life whether he knew it or not. He was the reason she'd join the Alliance. The name in the back of her mind during the Skyllian Blitz. _

_He smirked, and as they travelled down the elevator to the Docking bay, he put a hand on her shoulder._

_ "Lyra Shepard. That's your name. It's been all over the news vids, and extranet since the Skyllian Blitz. I knew you had potential, kid." He said, patting her shoulder, and looking forward to elevator doors as they swung open. They stepped out together and Shepard felt her heart pound, and excitement race through her vains, as she got an eyeful of the most...beautiful ship she'd ever laid her eyes on._

_ "The SSV Normandy," He spoke, his gaze running back and forth along the ship in pride. He nodded once, and looked over at her, arm raised and palm flat in the direction of the Normandy, "This, Commander Shepard, is your direction. This is your focus." He held his hand out and she took it, shaking his hand firmly. She felt tears prickle her eyes, and she grinned at him._

_ "Thank you, Captain Anderson. I won't let you down, sir." She said, and they both made their way to the airlock. _

_ "I know you won't, Shepard. I've known since the day I met you."_

**...**

"...And that concludes today's episode of the Young and the Shepardess." She finished, taking a sip from the glass of water near her bed.

"I'm sorry, but the Young and the what?" He asked, confusion clear in his voice. Shepard laughed, and set her glass back down on the table.

"Nevermind, Big guy, human thing. 21st century stuff." She replied, already feeling what kind of headache trying to explain that to him would cause. He nodded in acceptance, the familiar '_Humans are weird_' expression he wore during times like this on his face.

"So...that's why you joined the Alliance, huh? That's...I think that's one the best stories you've ever told me, Shepard." Garrus said, his mandibles pulled tight in thought.

"Really?" She asked bemusedly, "Why?"

Garrus stretched out and took her hand in his. She watched as his eyes traced the way their hands fit together, and smiled fondly. They weren't that compatiably, and yet they fit together better than anyone she'd ever met.

"I have a feeling that's a story you've only shared with a handful of people. Listening, and seeing you talk about something that clearly means a great deal to you, is a sight I wouldn't miss for anything in galaxy, Shepard." He answered, meeting her eyes, and giving her a Turian eqivulant to a smile, "That you consider me close enough to you for you to share it, means everything to me."

Shepard sat up, and leaned forward. She pressed her forehead to his, and closed her eyes.

"Close enough? Garrus, Anderson may be the reason I joined the Alliance, but you're the reason I'm still fighting. There's no one else closer to me than you." She kissed him softly, and pulled away a bit to look into his eyes, "And you and Anderson are the only one's who know that story."

Garrus pulled her down into him, and wrapped his arms around her, gently, in fear of cutting her with his plates.

"So...how much longer do you think we've got before EDI informs us of yet another message from someone needing our help?" He asked, and Shepard shrugged.

"My guess? Sometime in the next 20 minutes." She replied.

Five minutes later, EDI's voice chimed over her room's intercom informing her that Admiral Hackett was awaiting via vid-comm. for a mission involving Cerebrus. Shepard managed a-"Thanks EDI, let him know I'm on my way."- in between bursts of giggles, and her and Garrus made their way to the elevator.

Shepard was still smiling when she stepped out of the elevator and onto the CIC deck, waving Garrus goodbye before the door closed behind her. She glanced around her, seeing her crew in their various stations. Her smile faded, and she became Commander Shepard once again.

She had a war to win, and Reapers to destroy, and a promise to Admiral David Anderson to uphold. She'd make him proud. She wouldn't let him down. She'd return to Earth, and she'd bring a whole army the likes that nobody had ever seen before, back with her.

The direction? Reapers. The focus? Destroy them, and save as many lives as she can.

_How's that for discipline, Anderson? _She wondered as she pressed down on the comm. link, and Admiral Hackett's hologram appeared.

She imagined him somewhere down on Earth, an assualt rifle in his hands, leading a team ruthlessly through an army of Reaper forces. She could almost _hear_ his reply.

_I'd say that's pretty damn good, Shepard. _

**...**

**A/N: This was originally supposed to be just a backstory for my Shepard, and turned into this. (Shrug) Oh well, hope you enjoyed. Reviews are lovely. Thanks for reading!**


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